tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6239398194982847242014-10-07T00:50:10.058-04:00Diary of a Preschool MommyDiary entries of a Mommy to 2 crazy energetic boys and a new baby girl. Who also happens to have a crazy neurotic husband...and two insanely annoying Beagles. Welcome to my life.team kerausnoreply@blogger.comBlogger5125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-623939819498284724.post-18190633211977673632012-10-16T21:32:00.003-04:002012-10-16T21:32:55.063-04:00Punk<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wonder what the rules are on telling a 4 year old what you think of him. A 4 year old that isn't yours. A 4 year old that sits next to your son at preschool Monday through Friday and tries to belittle the children around him. I wonder what his parents would think about me pulling him by the little hairs on the back of his neck, right out of that too-little-for-adults chair. I wonder if the head of the preschool would call me into her office and explain to me, that no matter how much they enjoy having my son in their school, that he would no longer be allowing him to attend class there because of my actions....</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">&lt;HONKKKK!!!&gt;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Uh?!! What?? Oh! Green light!</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sorry. I was simply day dreaming about what I would do to that little punk that keeps filling my son's head with mindless jabber.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The latest?</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"My mom is smarter than yours."</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Huh. That's funny. I'm okay with that.</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I bet she's not as cool =) &nbsp;</span>team kerausnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-623939819498284724.post-59014812064726547132012-03-07T23:06:00.000-05:002012-03-07T23:06:31.862-05:00I'm That Mom<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We had three birthday parties last week. Three. How does that even happen? And what did I do to deserve that kind of torture? Just kidding. I actually enjoyed a couple of them. But being that I have three bambinos, under the age of 5, it's not easy to hit Target or Toys R Us without getting guilt-tripped into buying SOMETHING for them, as well as the birthday kids. I can barely afford the birthday gifts (especially when I have to buy THREE at a time!!), much less two more things for my kids. So....</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I'm that Mom. The one that gives giftcards. To 4 year olds.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Don't judge me.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Gift cards are easy. AND! Wait a minute... When you think of it...they are brilliant.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Chances are, the birthday kid is going to get a TON of gifts on party day. Weeks or months later, they will be tired of playing with said gifts and will most likely hit up mom or dad for something new and exciting to play.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">**(hear musical chimes)**</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">**(enter giftcard)**</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Problem solved.&nbsp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">You can thank me later =)&nbsp;</span></div>team kerausnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-623939819498284724.post-12903961329553850782012-03-01T00:00:00.002-05:002012-03-01T00:00:11.856-05:00Playground Blues<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">As Baker gets older, I am brought back to my days as a child. He's now at the age where I can remember vivid of memories of things that happened to me. I always thought I was a normal kid (don't we all think that?), but truth be known- I have always...ALWAYS...had a hard time making friends. Even to this day, I find that I don't have more than a few close friends and &nbsp;now that Baker is in school, I've never found myself in the middle of the preschool moms who hang around chit-chatting with their morning coffees. So when he comes home from school and says that no one will play with him on the playground, my heart breaks. Into a million pieces. Is he destined to feel like an outsider his whole life? Ugh. I mean, he has a few boys at school that he likes to have over for&nbsp;play dates&nbsp;and who he talks about incessantly. So when he says they don't want to play with him at school, I feel for him. I mean, I think my kid is the greatest! He's so creative. And funny. And outgoing. And inquisitive. And brave. And smart...and the list goes on. So why on Earth wouldn't other little people think he's great too? Who do these kids think they are? Don't they know what they are missing out on??? My protective instincts kick into overdrive. I want to march down to that school and tell those three foot somethings exactly what I think about them. But then I take a few yoga breaths and realize that this is just the first of many hurdles my little man is going to have to jump. I can't fight these kind of battles for him. I never want to sway his confidence. He can make friends on his own good time. For now, I'm more than a little stoked that he tells me that his best friend is his little brother =)&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">-MK</span><br /><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">What do you think? How would you (or have you) handle(d) this situation? I'd love to hear your comments!</span></div>team kerausnoreply@blogger.com57tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-623939819498284724.post-21259760323191409172011-08-23T08:58:00.000-04:002011-08-23T08:58:34.659-04:00Can I go to school?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I saw all of the posts on Facebook yesterday about kids going back to school, I looked around at the chaos in my house and secretly wished that my kids were too headed off to school. Surely if <strike>Chatty Cathy</strike> Drake could talk for a couple of hours at school, he wouldn't need to talk so much at home-- right? And if Trey could burn off a few hours of energy on the playground (or wherever for that matter) he would sleep for longer than 8 hours a night...And if they were BOTH somewhere at the same time where I wasn't responsible for them, surely I could take a much needed pregnancy nap. And take a shower-&nbsp;uninterrupted. And maybe go to the grocery store...alone. That might be heavenly. Hmm... what else would I do? I might go to Target and just wander aimlessly. I used to LOVE to do that. Not so much anymore. Now I have to navigate the store just right as to not let little eyes see the toy or candy aisle. Going into an unknown Target is a nightmare. I never know where a toy or candy display may be lurking.&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But then, as we all settled into rest/nap time, and I looked down at my sweet (they are all sweet while resting) boys, I snapped out of my fantasy and realized that yes, things may be crazy busy right now and no, I may not get to sleep for the next 5 years, but hell. I get to spend time with my kids. Real time. Not, Hurry, do your homework before soccer/quick eat your dinner/don't forget to take a bath before bedtime, time. I'm going to relish in these moments. Because it all just goes too quick. I'll be clean and rested later in life =)&nbsp;</span>team kerausnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-623939819498284724.post-56794599321733861712011-03-17T14:39:00.000-04:002011-03-17T14:39:11.051-04:00Mean GirlsAs we near the end of Drake's first year at school, I find myself pondering something. You see, when I pictured him starting preschool, I imagined an influx of new friends. For him, and for me. This however, has not been the case. Which brings me to the topic at hand. Mean girls. We all know who they are. Heck, you may have been one of them. I think some thought I was the mean girl in high school and college. I really wasn't, but apparently I gave off the mean girl persona. Anyway. Drake's preschool is full of mean girls- or mean moms rather. There is one group of women that literally stand at the end of the corridor and chit-chat before and after school. They stand there with their workout gear and coffee in hand and chit-chat their day away. Never once do they smile back at the obligatory "good morning" smile that the rest of us give to each other every morning. Never once do they invite anyone into their little group to join in on the conversation. The kicker is, that one of the moms also spins with me 30 minutes after drop off...3 times a week. At the gym, she acts like she has no clue who I am (her daughter is in Drake's class!). This same mom is also the mom that doesn't bring her daughter to ANY of the classmates' birthday parties. And now that I'm really thinking about it, her daughter (albeit SUPER cute) is the only one that Drake NEVER plays with! He has never once come home and said, "I had fun playing with &lt;insert name here&gt;!" I'm over it. And I'm not taking it personally. But it brings me to my question. Do mean girls turn into mean moms? Or are mean moms the girls that got left out of the mean girls club in high school, so they feel like they have a duty to be mean in their adult life? And do the mean moms create mean little girls???team kerausnoreply@blogger.com1